ELIANO #6
Our breaths mix, the kiss deepening as the heat between us ignites like a spark to dry tinder. The missed opportunity with Blue fades into irrelevance, all I can focus on is Salt, his body pressed close in the dim confines of the closet, the scent of his arousal thick in the air.
My hands slide down his sides, gripping his hips firmly, and I spin him around without breaking contact, pinning him face-first against the door.
He gasps, but there’s no protest, only eagerness as his palms flatten against the wood for support. I tug his pants and underwear down in one motion, exposing his ass.
My own cock strains against my zipper, hard and throbbing as the impact of marking still buzzes through my veins.
I free my dick quickly and line up behind him, the head nudging his entrance. He’s slick already, turned on, so I don’t wait. I thrust in deep, burying myself to the hilt in one mighty push.
Salt cries out in a mix of pleasure and that sharp edge of discomfort from the sudden stretch.
"Fuck, Eliano," he groans low, but his hips buck back immediately, meeting me halfway, urging me on. "Pound me hard!"
The closet’s tight space amplifies every sound, our breaths, the wet slap of skin as I start pounding into him, each drive pulling him up onto his toes. I grip his waist hard, fingers digging into flesh, holding him tight as I slam forward again, feeling his walls flutter and grip my length.
He’s deliciously responsive, pushing back with every thrust, his ass grinding against my pelvis, cooperating, chasing the friction.
I lean over him, my chest to his back, one hand bracing the door beside his head while the other snakes around to wrap around his cock. It’s rock hard and leaking. I stroke him in time with my hips, firm and fast, twisting at the head to make him whimper.
"You feel incredible, so tight!" I growl against his ear, nipping the lobe before trailing my lips down to his neck.
The fresh mark on my own side throbs as I trace his scarred gland with my tongue.
Then my eyes lock on his single unmarked gland on the left, untouched territory, begging for my claim.
With a long, low AO sound announcing it, I sink my teeth into it, the sharp bite breaking skin as I mark him there, making him even more mine.
Salt’s body seizes, his cry turning into a guttural moan as his orgasm crashes over him, pulling me in.
Hot spurts of his cum paint the door in thick ropes, his cock pulsing in my fist, his ass clamping down so tight it drags me over the edge with him.
I thrust deep one last time, flooding his insides with my release, wave after wave pulsing out as the marking ecstasy whites out my vision.
Muffled growls of pleasure escape me one after another, but I stay buried inside him, slumping forward to press my full weight against his back, panting hot breaths over his skin.
My teeth remain embedded in his gland, the metallic tang of blood on my tongue, and a low purr rumbles from my chest, vibrating between us. Salt’s hand drops back, finding mine where it circles his waist, and our fingers lace together tightly, holding on as the tremors subside.
Slowly, reluctantly, I release his neck, licking the fresh bite clean before pulling out with a slick pop.
We separate inch by inch, my cock hanging down, wet, dripping, his hole open, a stream of my jizz rivuletting over his thighs.
My hands spread his cheeks so I can inspect his hole and observe the trickles of cum flowing out of it.
Gosh, what a sight!
Salt leans with his forehead against the door, his pants still pooled at his ankles, chest heaving.
"Do you like my freshly fucked hole?"
"Love it."
He turns his head to the side, a lazy smile curving his lips, still smeared with a trace of my dried blood. I step closer and lean to the side, so our eyes can lock in the closet shadows.
We say no words, just that shared, satisfied gaze, the world outside utterly and irresponsibly forgotten.
Then…
Loud footsteps pass down the corridor.
We break our eye lock.
I quickly zip up and press my eye to the crack, spotting two betas in security uniforms walking along the hallway.
"Let’s try following them. Maybe they’ll lead us to wherever he is," I whisper.
"Okay," Salt murmurs back, as he fixes his clothes. His cheeks are still flushed, and he looks insanely sexy. I have to admit I would very much like to cuddle him for a bit longer, but that will have to wait.
"Wait," Salt says. "There’s a box of hand-refresh wipes here. Looks like the cleaning crew uses them. Maybe we could, you know… clean up a bit so we don’t smell like cum in front of everyone.
" He’s clearly amused. "Ever since my sense of smell improved, this kind of thing has become a pretty major factor in how I… experience the world."
I smile. "Better hearing, better smell? Seriously, your body is fully committing to the subgender transition! Even your own scent grew stronger too, the fresh notes of kiwi and yuzu…"
He juts his lips out slightly.
"Do you like it?"
"How could I not!" I can’t help it. I grab him by the waist and lift him into the air. Salt lets out something like a squeak, and his hands land instinctively on my neck glands. A deep growl slips out of me.
For a second we both go still when his fingers slide lightly over them. Putting both hands on someone’s glands like that is intimate, a gesture that means claiming and feelings.
Salt bites his lip, then hums softly with his cheeks flushed, "Umm, I think we should…"
"Yeah, yeah," I mumble, setting him back down and grab the box. "Alright, let’s give smell removal a chance, even though it might still break through," I say, winking.
We spend a minute rather clumsily cleaning ourselves up. Luckily, the scent of the wipes is aggressively strong and sharply alcoholic, strong enough to smother the smell of bodily fluids.
We carefully step out into the corridor, exchange a look, and then decide to take off our shoes and leave them in the storage room.
Moving barefoot, we follow the betas’ trail. They are long gone, but I know where they went because I can smell them in the air, detergent from their uniforms mixed with faint sweat and deodorant.
At one intersection, we unfortunately run into two other betas standing guard. Salt quickly points out that an earlier branching corridor allows us to bypass that node, so we backtrack and take a different route.
Eventually, weaving through the maze of hallways, we reach the place my nose has been leading me to.
We peek around the corner and spot a slightly wider corridor lined with rows of doors. I scan the area and, since I don’t see any windows on this side of the building, I assume there must be larger rooms here, maybe a conference room or some kind of briefing hall.
A group of people stands there.
"The meeting has started. If my hearing isn’t lying to me, I can pick up very muffled sounds coming from there."
Salt leans out a little. "But there are three betas from Bram’s unit standing near the door, and four alphas too. They must be Blue Lowen’s protective detail. I’ve definitely never seen them on the island before."
"Yeah, this could be hard. That’s a lot of people to get through."
I hesitate, then carefully lean out again to get a better look at them.
Harvey Bram’s people are chatting in a small group, relaxed but alert. The other guards stand in silence, rigid and formal, two on each side of the door like disciplined sentries.
Then something catches my attention.
"Holy shit. I can’t believe my own eyes," I mutter.
"What? What is it?" Salt whispers, with excitement in his voice.
"I think I recognize one of those guards. But that’s impossible…"
"Who is it?"
I lean out again to make sure, squinting and scrutinizing him. No, I’m not mistaken. Not at all. Incredible.
I pull back and look at Salt. "One of my last fights in cages was against a guy who was a title contender in my weight class. Gabriel Nolan. He was aiming for a championship belt."
"So what, is he one of them?"
I exhale and rub my forehead in disbelief. "It sure looks like it. The one with dark copper hair. But what the hell would he be doing here?"
"Is it really that strange?" Salt raises an eyebrow. "If he was a fighter too, couldn’t he have gotten a job as a bodyguard? He’d make a pretty solid one for Blue, considering how often people try to kill him," Salt adds, slightly sarcastic, with a fleeting smile.
I shoot him a skeptical look. "I don’t know.
Fighters aren’t necessarily trained in security protocols.
But that’s not the weirdest part. From what I remember, Gabriel had trouble with the law, he never even made it to the title fight.
He was supposedly involved in an attack on a certain facility.
Brace yourself… It was Malden Pharmaceuticals! "
Salt’s eyes go wide. "Wait a second. He was involved in an attack on Blue’s company?" When I nod, he lets out a gasp. "And now you’re telling me he’s Lowen’s bodyguard? Crazy!"
I rub my temples. "I don’t know what the hell is going on. But one thing is certain: he and I knew each other pretty well. This is our chance, Salt. I can ask him to let me talk with Blue!" I lightly grip his shoulders.
"He’s not Lowen’s PA, why would he help us?"
"We’ll see, I’m optimistic," I say confidently, flashing a wide grin as I grab his hand and pull him toward the corner.
We step out together, and the moment we enter the corridor’s light, every head turns toward us. The alphas close ranks like a well-trained unit, while the betas move toward us like an advance line.
I have no intention of letting them get too far from Gabriel. I stride forward quickly.
"Hey, stop right there. There’s no passage here. Turn around," one of the betas shouts.
"Gabriel. Gabriel Nolan!" I call out even louder, cutting straight through his voice.
One of the guards, a man with rust-colored hair, tilts his head as if listening more closely.
"Gabriel, it’s me! I need to talk to you."